a triple date with england

Finally, after weeks of hoping and worrying that it might not happen, thanks to my wonderful ambassador's inability to plan ahead, I got my tickets to London and off I went last Saturday. With a slight hangover after a girls' night out the day before, I boarded the ryanair flight (and I who swore never to fly with them again...) in Västerås and arrived in London a couple of hours later. For such a short flight it's ok, but never again will I fly with ryanair if I don't really have to. This time I blame the ambassador, had I been able to book my tickets sooner I would have been confortable on a BA flight, that not only would have served me food (well, not the plane itself as we all understand) but also would have taken me to Heathrow's terminal 5, within much closer reach from Fulham, where I stayed with Michelle and Nina.

The week started off with an unexpectedly expensive Thai restaurant by the river in Putney Bridge, just a short walk from my friends' apartment. The food was lovely, but I accidentally ate a chili and consequently almost died as a result. But as I'm apparently alive to tell the tale, I guess it's safe to say that my tendency to exaggerate is making an appearance.

Sunday had a lovely trip to Brighton in store. Brighton was hot and sunny, and I did my best to soak up the sun as I had just arrived from a sun-deprived Stockholm and was in desperate need of some vitamin D. I probably should have gone easy on the sun, though, because despite not actually attempting to sun bathe, I, along with the two others, managed to burn majorly. My forehead, my arms and my neck were all bright red, although perhaps not quite as red as the others. Painful enough, though, but luckily the pain didn't set in until I'd safely returned to London.

Brighton is indeed a lovely city. Just by the beach, which unfortunately is pebbled, but nonetheless a lovely, busy beach with an abundance of bars, restaurants and touristy shops, and an even greater abundance of people. And of course, not to forget, the lovely pier where you can easily spend (or waste, rather..) a few dimes on rides and other attractions.

The cute and quirky lanes, the bohemian yet stylish people, shops and bars all make for a great city with a relaxed, friendly atmosphere. Brighton is definitely a city where I could see myself live some day. Quieter than London, yet only an hour away by train when the shopping addiction needs feeding and the spending pants come on.

London, too, of course, is indeed lovely. Busy as always, insane crowds that I sometimes had to escape for some coffee and a book in one of the parks, yet difficult not to love, and miss. Because I do miss it. But do I want to move back? That I don't know.

What I do know is that I had an amazing time with some of my greatly missed friends. Marina came in from Slovenia, Marina my favorite Marina. Audrey came for a few days. I stayed in Michelle's room on a floor on which I could not lie straight but collapsed into bed late every night anyway so didn't mind too much. Went to visit Manuela in Kingston, we went bowling and good old Annie from AZ came along too, as did Manuela's boyfriend and I kicked all of their asses. Who knew I was that good, I haven't played in 5 years.

Manuela also drove us down to Bournemouth one day, we relaxed at the beach, strolled through te gardens and the city, and most importantly, had beer at O'neill's, the one place I most associate with Bournemouth. No place has given me so many memories, and nowhere else have I had so many encounters with weirdos that still make us all laugh, years afterwards.

I ate fish and chips on the beach in Brighton, pizza slices at Leicester square, a triangle sandwich from M&S and Krispy Kreme donuts for breakfast and I drank enough beer to last me a lifetime.

I walked more than I had thought possible, I spent more money than I knew I had, I collected pebbles (that turned out to be shells..) on the beach which caused me some overweight on the plane, and I managed to pack all my new purchases without any major difficulties.

I did the Beatles walk at Abbey road and felt ridiculous and along with some other tourists I was the source of great annoyance for the many cars trying to pass by.

I am quite happy to be back home though. Sad as it was to leave, and as much as I'm going to miss all my friends again, and London too, of course, it feels quite nice to have a proper bed to sleep in, to not live in a suitcase, and to have my own apartment to move around it (closet-like as it may be).

But I will be back, this time hopefully without letting more than a year pass by. London will always be my home, and I will always feel like I'm returning home whenever I go there. Maybe one day it will be my home again, maybe it won't, but it won't really matter because it's true as they say, home is where your heart is. And my heart is definitely in London. But it's also in Sweden, and it's also true as Travis says, home is where the heart is, but my heart had to go. Right now a bigger part of my heart is in Sweden.

At least I think. But I'm known to be torn, and indecisive to add to that. Which is why I've decided not to make any decisions anymore, but to just take things as they come.

The end.

Missing you Marina

I just got a call from one of my best friends, a girl who now lives in Slovenia, and who I used to share a life with back in the day. We studied together in Bournemouth, became friends only at the beginning of the second semester and have been inseperable ever since. Well, that is since we both moved back to our respective countries. Before that we did everything together. We would make dinner for each other, we'd spend countless nights in her kitchen drinking beer and eating doritos and analyzing each other's lives. We'd go to O'Neill's, our favorite hang-out in Bournemouth more often than was perhaps wise, and bump into all kinds of freaks and geeks.

When we'd finished uni, we moved to London together, shared an amazing house with some other amazing Bournemouth people, but somehow it was as though living together did the opposite of bringing us closer together. We both worked a lot, and we never had the energy, time or money to just go out and have fun together. I regret that now. Our time in London together was supposed to be amazing, yet all I remember from that time is hating my job.

I still consider her to be one of my best friends, though, and when I think about it I can't believe that we are so far apart, that we will never live in the same city again. That we used to be so close, she was the one I would confide in, always. I want those days back. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Studying abroad is both one of the best and one of the worst things you can ever do. It's the most amazing experience, and you meet some of the most amazing people in the world, but then you have to leave it all and go back to the dull reality that is real life.

I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not so sure that this whole real life thing is for me. I much preferred the fantasy life I lived during my study abroad experiences, when everything seemed possible and I was still young. Although I still have the same dreams, I feel like I'm getting too old to achieve them, like life is slipping away, and all the people I used to know with it, and all I can do is sit at my frikkin embassy with my joke of a job and watch it happen.

And I don't like it. I don't like it at all.